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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741864">When You Move, I'm Moved</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie'>Kitty_KatAllie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>YOI Omegaverseweek 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A/B/O is very secondary to plot whoops?, AlphaYuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, College AU, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, Musician Victor Nikiforov, OmegaViktor, Viktor is a Giant Flirt and Yuuri can't handle it, a/b/o dynamics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:41:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He breathed life into the music Viktor’s pen had written. This man created it in a way not even Viktor’s violin could quite accomplish. His body moving with it, every centimeter of his limbs, down to fingertips, quivering with the longing Viktor had tried to feel. The look on his face, the subtle curve of his mouth and the dark shadow of his brows, it made Viktor’s breath catch.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>YOI Omegaverseweek 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When You Move, I'm Moved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was his only chance to be here. A once in a lifetime opportunity that he sweated and literally bled for. Less than a whole year, and then he’d be back in Boston, missing Japan. Dreaming the same dreams he’d had since he was twelve years old that he would probably let die here in St. Petersburg. </p><p>He stumbled on waxed wooden floorboards and barely managed to catch himself. </p><p>Yuuri leaned against the barre, head tilting back as he stared upwards, anywhere but at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors across the room. He knew what he’d see. A short Asian man in tight black leotard and leggings with an almost too big off-white croptop. He’d be covered in sweat patches, his face ragged and desperate, the weight of his failure pulling him down. After all the strings Minako-sensei pulled, all the praise she heaped on him to strangers, all the expectations of his new teachers…</p><p>All the expectations he had put on himself, the singular goal he’d had most his life…</p><p>The song that had been playing on a loop re-started. Yuuri closed his eyes and smiled. </p><p>One more time then. He pushed off the barre as the streetlamps outside filled the room with a soft orange glow. His hand trailed down the side of his face and he imagined another one, with silver hair and blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Outside Viktor walked through the halls of Vaganova Dance Academy with his hands deep in his pockets and his gaze somewhere in the middle distance. His long conversation with Lilia and Yakov seemed a complete waste of time now. Of course Lilia would recommend a dancer for Viktor. Of course Viktor would actually create a new composition, or several. He had been playing since he was a child, and creating new pieces since he was sixteen. He was only twenty-three now, clinging to his Master’s program, terrified of leaving school and not knowing what he’d do outside it. Especially since his music had gotten emptier, with less impact, less subtleties and beauty. He was bored of it. Of playing the same music again and again. Hearing half-finish songs in his head and being unable to finish them. </p><p>How could he be burning out at twenty-four?</p><p>He sighed as the familiar stanzas of his last completed work played through his head. It was… it was almost like his old music. Something he was almost proud of. As he brushed his bangs out of his eyes, he noticed the gleam of light stretching across the corridor, a single classroom still lit while everywhere else was dark. </p><p><em>Isn’t the Academy closed?</em> He wondered with some surprise. Surprise that only heightened when he realized the music wasn’t in his head. It was coming from the classroom. </p><p>He snuck up on the door, peering into the narrow window set in the middle. Inside a young man danced. </p><p>No, <em>danced</em> was too small a word. </p><p>He breathed life into the music Viktor’s pen had written. This man created it in a way not even Viktor’s violin could quite accomplish. His body moving with it, every centimeter of his limbs, down to fingertips, quivering with the longing Viktor had tried to feel. The look on his face, the subtle curve of his mouth and the dark shadow of his brows, it made Viktor’s breath catch. His eyes stung with tears. </p><p><em>This</em> is what he tried to make. This intense, painful yearning as his violin had pulled over the strings. The piano and other strings made the melody fuller, closer to complete, but it wasn’t. Not until now as this stranger, this unknown young man, danced to it. </p><p>Viktor yanked the door open and all but fell into the room. “Who are you?” he gasped. </p><p> </p><p><br/>Yuuri stumbled out of position, sweat flicking off his damp hair and down his face, bare feet squeaking over wood again. </p><p>“Wh-what?” Yuuri gasped, skidding backward until his back hit the barre and he fell with a thud to the ground. “Oh… Oh my <em>god.</em> Viktor?”</p><p>His neck was bare. He was covered head to toe with sweat. <em>His neck was bare.</em> And Viktor Living Legend Nikiforov was staring at him. </p><p>He had seen Yuuri dancing to his music! To <em>Stammi Vicino!</em> Yuuri had had this exact dream a thousand times, but now that he was living it, it was a <em>nightmare.</em> He wheezed as he pinched at his inner elbow. He winced and the strange staring contest they’d been in ended. Viktor strode across the room and Yuuri’s eyes widened in true alarm. Outright squeaking when Viktor dropped to his knees and grasped Yuuri’s hands. Yuuri caught the faint scent of <em>sweet,</em> his brain suddenly mush, as those delicately callused fingers pressed into his skin. </p><p>“The way you moved, the way you danced, you brought more feeling to that piece than anything I’ve ever felt while playing it. It was missing you. I think you’re <em>exactly</em> what I’ve been missing!” Viktor said, blue eyes shining. </p><p><em>So pretty</em>, Yuuri thought dazedly. He’d seen Viktor's images splashed across magazines and online videos for years, the Top Omega Bachelor in the World. Hottest 20 under 25. A celebrity before he’d even finished his first degree. But Yuuri was still dazzled at the sight of him so close. “Wh-what?”</p><p>“I need you to dance for me. Please, say you will,” Viktor pleaded. “I’ll make you the perfect music, the perfection program. Please say yes.”</p><p>Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “I’m dreaming, right? You’re… I’ve passed out in the dance room and Madame Baranovskaya is going to come in and twist my ear any moment.”</p><p>“Of course you’re not!”</p><p>Viktor started to laugh, tugging Yuuri forward until their noses almost brushed. </p><p>Both of them froze and Yuuri’s cheeks heated as Viktor’s blue eyes gleamed gold. This close, even Yuuri’s naturally faint scent was obvious. Made thicker and stronger by his late hours of practice and sweat. The patches on Viktor’s neck were stark white and filled Yuuri with a sad sort of regret, almost the same feeling he sunk into in the midst of <em>Stammi Vicino.</em> There was only a lingering trace of his sweet smell. Somehow, it fit excruciatingly well with his own. He was definitely going crazy. </p><p>Yuuri pulled his hands out of Viktor’s grasp and flung himself towards his gym bag. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think anyone but Madame Baranovskaya was here!” he babbled, digging through his bag. </p><p>“Oh, my… my apologies, I didn’t mean to…” Viktor blinked dazedly over at him. He shook his head and then rushed forward. “Not important right now! Dancing! You, dancing, to my music!”</p><p>“I…You can’t be serious? You don’t even know me?” Yuuri said, baffled and frowning, two thin papers in his hands. </p><p>“Of course,” Viktor tossed his hair back and held out a hand. “I’m Viktor Nikiforov and I want to make music for you.” He winked. </p><p>Yuuri flushed to his hairline and peeled open the papers with trembling hands to slap one, then a second patch over the scent glands on his neck. They didn't stick well on his sweat-soaked skin, but it was better than being <em>bare.</em> He rubbed his clammy palms on his leggings, grimaced, and wiped them on his croptop, then held out his hand, hesitantly. “Katsuki Yuuri. Yuuri, I mean.”</p><p>Viktor grabbed his quivering hand and shook it. </p><p>“Yuuri, it’s lovely to meet you.”</p><p>Yuuri nodded. “Yeah. Same.”</p><p>Viktor beamed and Yuuri couldn’t help returning it with a small smile.</p><p>“Tomorrow! Let’s meet tomorrow. Can you come to the Conservatory? I have a room where I could play for you. I want to see you dance to some pieces I’m struggling with.”</p><p>Yuuri made a small incredulous noise, tugging his hand away as he abruptly realized Viktor still held it. “You want me to what?”</p><p>Viktor pressed a finger to his pursed lips in thought. Yuuri might’ve accidentally fixated on that glossy mouth too long. Luckily, he jerked his gaze up before Viktor noticed. “You’re right. I’m asking a lot for nothing in return. Do you like coffee?”</p><p>“<em>Bwa</em>?” Viktor blinked pleasantly, impatiently patient. “Not really. I like tea?”</p><p>“Hm, tea? I suppose I can compromise,” Viktor opened his phone and started a new contact. Katsuki Yuuri with about 5 hearts was added, making Yuuri flail and blush, until Viktor pressed the phone into his hands. “I’ll text you in the morning to make plans. I really must go, my Makkachin in waiting for me.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, you don’t want to keep her waiting,” Yuuri blurted, typing in his number quickly. When he tried to hand it back, he caught sight of Viktor’s startled face. Yuuri’s shoulders pulled up high around his ears and he stared at the ground. “I’m a fan. I read the interview about her.”</p><p>“Well… that makes things easy, I suppose. You’re not going to ask for an autograph?”</p><p>“What, no! I mean… yes? Not if you don’t want to!” Yuuri sputtered, hands flailing and eyes looking everywhere but Viktor’s face. </p><p>The soft chuckle broke through his panic. “Tea and an autograph. But you must dance for me first.”</p><p>“Why?” The word fall from his mouth before he could hold it back. </p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>Yuuri swallowed and stared at the ground between them, not that there was much. “Why me? There are dozens of amazing dancers here. We’re at the <em>Vaganova,</em> I’m just a temporary international student.”</p><p>Fingers, cool and callused by steel core strings, gently touched under his chin. Slowly, his face was tipped upward and he stared into icy blue eyes. <em>“You’re</em> at the Vaganova. Why do you think you’re not every bit as worthy as any of them?”</p><p>Yuuri gulped hard, and glanced away. </p><p>“Good! Tomorrow then!”</p><p>He picked up Yuuri’s slack hand and brushed a kiss over his knuckles. Yuuri wheezed, hand hanging in the air, as Viktor rose slowly to his feet and ran for the door. </p><p>“I can’t wait, Yuuri!”</p><p>“Me, too,” Yuuri whispered, staring at the dark doorway.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Yuuri, you’re so focused today! It’s almost scary,” Mila said, poking his cheek and smiling at him. </p><p>Sputtering, Yuuri batted her hand away. He and Mila were two of the only five Alphas in the program that year. Typically professional dancers in classical ballet were Betas and Omegas, but Yuuri had never felt more himself than while he was dancing. So stereotypes were dumb, as his old sensei used to say. He sipped at his water bottle as Mila waited, a mischievous smirk on her face. When Sara and Michele stepped up, Yuuri mentally kissed his privacy good-bye. Sara and Mila together were a force, impossible to deny for long. </p><p>“Yuuri has a <em>secret,</em> Sanya,” Mila said the moment the black-haired Italian draped her arms around Mila’s waist. The death glare Michele sent Mila’s way was laughably impotent with Lilia in the room talking to other dancers. </p><p>“A secret? If it’s about him staying here until midnight dancing to Viktor’s music, that’s not a very good secret, <em>amore</em>," Sara teased.</p><p>The two girls were distracted by the petname, both of them cuddling as their pheromones went crazy. Even the patches couldn’t contain all that. Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and cast around for Guang-Hong. Who looked immersed on his phone. <em>Damn.</em> Michele tched loudly, and looked to Yuuri. It had taken months (and Mila sweeping his perfect Omega darling sister out from under his nose) for him to finally talk to Yuuri without the words ‘pervert’ or ‘bastard’ being every other word he said. He had a <em>thing</em> against Alphas, but he was an Omega like his twin, so maybe he had a good reason. </p><p>“Help me with that last routine, Katsuki. I still can’t get the transition, right,” Michele demanded with flushed cheeks and his violet eyes averted. Yuuri smiled. </p><p>“Yeah, okay. I think I saw where you’re shifting your weight incorrectly. Show me from--”</p><p>“Oh no you don’t. It’s break and you’re giving me the tea. Spill it, mister,” Mila said, grabbing Yuuri’s ear. </p><p><em>“Micchan,”</em> Yuuri yelped, a name Mila had insisted he call her within weeks of meeting. </p><p>“Why do you think he has anything to say? He’s just as quiet as he always is,” Michele said with a scowl. </p><p>“No, no, Milosha’s right, I can see the difference. He’s not really paying attention to the music today,” Sara said with a finger to her lip. “I think even Madame Baranovskaya’s noticed.”</p><p>“She has?” Yuuri squeaked, glancing towards their teacher. Sara and Mila leaned closer, eyes wide and shiny, and even Michele was glancing at him from the corner of his eye. Yuuri sighed. “I met Viktor last night. Here. He wants me to dance for him.”</p><p>Michele choked and both the girls gasped, eyes even more starry. </p><p>“This is amazing! It’s everything you wanted, Yuuri!” Sara said clenching her hands into fists and hopping up and down on her toes.</p><p>“I told you you should’ve let me set up a meeting! I knew he’d love you!” Mila exclaimed, sweeping Yuuri off his feet and swinging him around in dizzying circles. “When? When?”</p><p>“Um, tonight. I… I can’t! I can’t just go dance for him! He wants me to dance for new music. I’ll be too busy being a dumb fanboy to do anything useful!” Yuuri protested, trying to squirm out of Mila’s too tight embrace (impossible). </p><p>There was a loud clap and the group turned to see an angrily glaring Lilia. </p><p>“Is this a playground, or a dance class?” she demanded. “Get into first position, immediately.”</p><p><em>“Oui, madame,”</em> they chorused, rushing to their places. Guang-Hong smiled encouragingly at Yuuri.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” he whispered between each movement, their arms arcing gracefully through the air. </p><p>“Yes, thanks, Guang-Hong.”</p><p>The sixteen-year-old Omega beamed. Still unused to an Alpha’s praise, most likely. Yuuri smiled indulgently and kept his eye on Lilia, and occasionally Michele to give him some advice later. All the while, he kept thinking about that text he’d woken up to, with the string of hearts and smiling emojis. Just a few more hours. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When Yuuri made it to the Conservatory, he mentally thanked the gods (every god in every faith, he's not picky) for Phichit. He had met him on accident at a tea shop, hitting it off immediately as two Asian international students, and had visited him often at his dorms at the Conservatory. Only those few times with his friend kept him from getting lost. In the bowels of one huge empty building this late in the day, he finally found the room Viktor had messaged. He peeked around the door to see him standing there in the middle of the room, violin tucked under his chin, eyes closed, as the most beautiful melody echoed through the room. Yuuri closed his eyes and leaned against the doorway, sighing softly as the clear, innocent sound washed over him. He almost didn’t notice it ending, but he could feel the frown on his face as the last notes ebbed away. </p><p>“Well?”</p><p>Yuuri yelped and almost smacked his face against the doorjamb. Viktor was smiling like a perfect portrait, eyes unfathomable and mostly hidden behind his silver fringe. His violin hung negligently from his lax hand at his side. </p><p>“Um, what?”</p><p>“How was it? The song?” Viktor clarified, walking to where the violin case was resting on a large grand piano. A ream of papers were scattered like trash around it.</p><p>“It sounded… beautiful. Very clear and innocent, almost... naive...?” Yuuri began. </p><p>“Yes, and?”</p><p>Yuuri winced and looked away. “I didn’t sound finished.”</p><p>“Yes, my thoughts precisely.”</p><p>“But normally your arrangements have several other instruments that work to make a whole! Surely just the violin solo by itself isn’t the full picture, so my opinion isn’t fully informed either!” Yuuri babbled quickly, hands waving wildly. </p><p>From under the fall of his hair, Yuuri just barely caught the side of Viktor’s smile. </p><p>“That’s all there is,” Viktor replied at last. The smile this time looked brittle and sharp. “I’ve got nothing else. Not yet.” Those blue eyes pinned Yuuri in place. “Now I have you.”</p><p>Yuuri gulped. <em>What’s with this pressure? Is he kidding? Nope, that’s definitely not a kidding face!</em></p><p>“I have one more.” Viktor shook his hands and rolled his neck; Yuuri was immediately charmed at the simple, human actions. He moved further into the room, dropping his gym bag and peeling off several of his winter layers. With another too sharp smile, Viktor raised his violin, winked at Yuuri, and then began to play. </p><p>Yuuri inhaled sharply. It was… just barely Yuuri could hear the similarities, but he wasn’t music savvy enough to pinpoint it. But mostly it was more energetic, wilder, full of that same feverish, frantic emotion that built in his chest whenever Yuuri thought about Viktor. It reminded him of dancing with Minako-sensei as a child, later a teenager, wearing heels and a silk skirt and laughing without a care.</p><p>There. That was the beat. He stepped out into it, sliding easily into a flamenco and smiling to himself. Adding pirouettes and jetés when he couldn’t keep both feet on the floor. There was a screech of the bow over the strings and Yuuri halted with a dazed blink, arms in the air and the beginnings of sweat dotting his upper lip. </p><p>“Wait! I need to change something, don’t move!” Viktor rushed over the pile of papers scattered over the piano. Looking almost wild, he searched through the pages until he found one and grabbed a pencil to scribble something. </p><p>Yuuri crept forward and peeked around his shoulder. The papers were covered in bars of music. A lot of them were obviously erased and re-written, harsh, angry scribbles covering areas. At the top, <em>On Love: Eros</em>. A few other pages read <em>Agape.</em> </p><p>“Love? Eros and agape, those aren’t English or Russian?” Yuuri said, adjusted his glasses and leaning closer. </p><p>“Agape is unconditional love, like a parent to their child,” Viktor said, frowning and erasing a few notes on an <em>Eros</em> titled page and writing a few more in their place. </p><p>“The first one.”</p><p>“That’s right!” Viktor looked up, his giant smile looking rather heart-shaped. Yuuri blushed slightly at the praise. </p><p>“So eros? It’s a different kind of love?” Yuuri asked. Viktor rested on his elbow and smiled up at him. The kind of mischievous smile that had his body breaking out in a cold sweat. </p><p><em>“Mhm,</em> can’t you guess?”</p><p>“It reminded me of a tango, really, or a flamenco like I attempted. Those are both partner dances, a lot of romantic and sensual innuendos and movements-- Oh.” Heat suffused his face and he never felt so painfully <em>virginally</em> twenty. </p><p>“You figured it out.”</p><p>Yuuri took a quick step back. “You want me to dance to both of these songs? I can’t-- I mean, I don’t have any way of dancing to something like… <em>that</em> on a stage!” he protested. </p><p>“But you <em>did</em> dance to it. Just now,” Viktor said with a pout. “And you did so well I even managed to fix a piece of it, right here.” He tapped at his recent addition. </p><p>“But I can’t do that by myself! I need a partner for the kind of tango you want from me!”</p><p>Viktor stood up straight and leaned in close. Yuuri gulped loudly, frozen like deer as Viktor stepped so close, one of his feet fitted between Yuuri’s, knees almost brushing. Something about Viktor turned everything on its head: Yuuri's life, their dynamics, his poor abused heart. His hand, that tantalizingly callused hand, gripped Yuuri’s chin, and he felt his whole body respond. Heat rushing up his spine like a lick of fire and his mouth parting under the graze of his thumb over his bottom lip. </p><p>“V-Vi-”</p><p>“I certainly do want that kind of tango from you. But <em>only</em> you. Do you want to dance to my music with someone else, Katsuki <em>Yuu</em>ri? Were you imagining another partner while I played for you?”</p><p><em>Played for you. Played for you.</em> Yuuri wanted that branded on him somewhere. Viktor said he played for <em>Yuuri.</em> </p><p>“You… you weren’t, though. Playing for me. You made that music before you ever met me,” he argued, heart pumping too hard. He shoved Viktor back a step, making his blue eyes widen, and frowned. “I don’t like being teased.”</p><p>Viktor blinked, then slowly tilted his head. “You’re right. I did make that music before I met you. And it was flat. Completely unplayable. What you heard today was actually salvageable, <em>because</em> of you.”</p><p>Yuuri stared, speechless, as Viktor walked away. He leaned over the paper, frowning at the notes. </p><p>“You already have a good idea for <em>Eros.</em> Let’s work on that. I’d like more of the tango, less of the ballet. It’d be a good distinction from the <em>Agape.”</em></p><p>“Um, yeah… the first one fits better with more classical choreography. But, I was using more flamenco than tango,” Yuuri said quietly. Viktor looked over at him with a deeper frown. “I could show you the difference.”</p><p>“Perfect!” </p><p>Yuuri sighed and took off his glasses. He had a long night ahead of him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“I think my hands are bleeding, Yuu<em>ri</em>! <em>Bleeding!</em> You’re a stamina monster!” Viktor cried, waving his reddened-- but definitely <em>not</em> bleeding-- fingers. </p><p>“You asked me to help you!” Yuuri protested, pushing open the shop door himself. His hair was still dripping down the back of his neck, having used some locker room showers with Viktor’s help finding them. He always had a spare set of clothes in his bag, thankfully. Next to him, Viktor whined as he blew on his fingers. </p><p>“Not thirteen times! <em>Thirteen times,”</em> he whimpered. </p><p>Yuuri ducked his head, hand covering his mouth. Viktor leaned down, almost bent double, to catch a glimpse of Yuuri’s face. He grinned seeing the hidden laughter. </p><p>“Finally, you’re smiling! You made me think you’re one of those uptight Alphas that refuse to drop the macho act around an Omega. It was very disappointing to think that,” Viktor said, hands clasped behind his back as they walked up to the counter. It was almost nine p.m. already, but Yuuri knew how much homework he had waiting for him back at the dorm. Maybe a coffee, disgusting as it was, would be the better choice. He really shouldn’t have stayed so long at the Conservatory. </p><p>“Wait, macho? <em>Macho?</em> Do I look like someone like that?” Yuuri asked, waving a hand at himself. </p><p>Viktor turned to him, his pensive look suddenly sharp over a sly smirk. The way he trailed his gaze up and down Yuuri’s torso had him flushing to his ears again. He was wearing about <em>five layers</em>, why did he feel <em>naked?</em></p><p>“Mm. I wonder.”</p><p>Yuuri sputtered. </p><p>They were interrupted by rapid, chirpy Russian. Yuuri caught enough to figure out what she was asking for, and quickly spouted his emergency coffee order. Viktor looked over at him in surprise, and then ordered his own drink… tagging something on at the end that made Yuuri frown in confusion; he hadn't heard that Russian word before. Before Viktor could pay, Yuuri held out his card, blushing brightly. </p><p>“I got it.”</p><p>The girl looked between them curiously before her cheeks went pink and her mouth became a perfect ‘o’. Viktor had an equally surprised look on his face. As Yuri took back his card, Viktor followed him to the waiting area. </p><p>“It was supposed to be my treat. You’re dancing for me,” Viktor pointed out.</p><p>“Exactly,” Yuuri muttered. Viktor leaned closer. Yuuri did his best not to lean away. “I’ve always wanted to… to dance for you. So. Thank you. And I’m sorry about your fingers.”</p><p>“<em>Yuu</em>ri!” Arms wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders and smooth, soft skin pressed against Yuuri’s cheek. Viktor was rubbing against the side of his face, purring happily. “You’re so <em>sweet.”</em></p><p>“I guess that’s better than macho,” Yuuri said on a sigh, trying not to let how pleased he was show. <em>Viktor’s scent. I’m definitely going to be super weird and sniff this shirt tonight. Damn it.</em></p><p>"I really am sorry I made you play so much, it's just... something is missing. I want to get it right," Yuuri said with a frown.</p><p>Viktor frowned, Yuuri could <em>feel</em> the movement of his mouth against his own cheek. "Yes, you're right. You aren't quite feeling it the way you did with <em>Stammi Vicino.</em> We'll just have to work on finding your true eros, <em>Yuu</em>ri~"</p><p>"My w-what?!"</p><p>“Yuuri?” “It’s Yuuri!” “Is that Vitya?”</p><p>Yuuri and Viktor looked towards the voices. Instead of pulling away, Viktor’s arms actually got tighter, his cheek pressing hard enough to smoosh the side of Yuuri’s face and knock his glasses askew. In a grouping of chairs around a low coffee table, every single one of Yuuri’s friends were staring at him and Viktor draped over him like a blanket with expressions of shock, disgust(Michele), and glee. A phone rose and clicked, and Phichit lowered it with a flurry of fingers over the screen. </p><p>“Oh <em>my god,</em> Phichito-kun, don’t you <em>dare</em>!”</p><p>“But it’s Viktor Nikiforov!” Phichit said, eyes never leaving his phone. “I’m recording this for posterity. My best friend managed to snag his idol and they’re already dating!”</p><p>“We are <em>not</em>!!”</p><p>“But you bought me coffee, <em>Yuu</em>ri. Don’t play with my poor Omega heart like this.”</p><p>“Oh my god!” Yuuri buried his face in his hands and groaned. </p><p>“Oh, I know him! Chulanont, right? You were part of the quartet in my <em>Stammi Vicino</em> presentation. You played the… viola?”</p><p>“That’s right! I know playing a composition recording for a class final is different from a recording through a music production company, but I can’t help but think it’s my viola being sold internationally," Phichit said with a smile every bit as bright as Viktor. It was like watching two suns try to outshine each other. Yuuri was going to get blinded stuck in the middle like this.</p><p>“I really wanted that version produced, but my manager refused. Yakov can be so cruel,” Viktor said sadly. </p><p>“Viktor, I need you to let me go so I can get our drinks,” Yuuri whispered. Shivers ran down his spine at how slowly and reluctantly Viktor seemed to be as he pulled away. </p><p>“I’ll go join your friends. Make sure mine is decaf!” He repeated the word in Russian.</p><p>“Decaf? What’s the point of getting decaf?” Yuuri asked, grimacing. </p><p>“The taste! The smell!” Viktor said. </p><p>“The <em>taste,</em>” Yuuri muttered incredulously. </p><p>When he brought the drinks, Viktor patted the seat next to him. For the entire night, which luckily it was a late night coffee shop with live music coming in after ten o’clock, Viktor leaned against Yuuri, shoulder to shoulder. He probably shouldn’t be thinking <em>luckily</em>, with that homework waiting for him and his early morning dance class. But he was surrounded by friends, he had just spent hours alone with his idol, and said-idol was leaning against him and refusing to budge. All but crushing his sweet Omega scent into Yuuri’s clothes. Who cared about homework anymore? </p><p>Who even cared about what was happening in his life anymore? He was probably going to wake up any moment and whole thing would be an amazing dream. </p><p>He glanced out the corner of his eye. Only to balk at the look Viktor was sending him. Viktor smiled and leaned close. His breath smelled like chocolate and coffee, and just barely, that sweet Omega scent of him curled around them. Slender fingers traced the edges of the patch on Yuuri’s neck and he shuddered hard enough the dregs of the coffee splashed against the sides of the mug. </p><p>“I didn’t get a chance to really enjoy it yesterday, but perhaps I’m glad these are still on,” Viktor mused with an absent smile. </p><p>“Wha-what?” Yuuri hissed, trying his best not to look at his gaily chatting friends. </p><p>“I’d like to keep that scent all to myself. Do you have a lover, <em>Yuu</em>ri?”</p><p>“N-no comment,” he whispered. His ears were burning and he was staring too hard at Viktor’s chin, unable to meet him eye-to-eye. </p><p>“So mysterious,” Viktor said with a wider smile. “That’s all right. Whatever the answer,” Viktor leaned in, lips brushing Yuuri’s bright red ear, “you smell like mine now.”</p><p>Yuuri jerked back, blinking rapidly as Viktor grinned, toothy and pleased. It wasn’t the right smile. The right smile was brighter, sillier, heart-shaped. Even as his pulse stuttered, Yuuri reached over and pressed his wrist over the patch still on Viktor’s neck. </p><p>“You’re the only one I’d solo tango for,” Yuuri muttered. </p><p>Viktor’s eyes widened over pink cheeks. Then, he burst into laughter and threw himself around Yuuri’s shoulders. </p><p>“Ack! Wha-”</p><p>“That sounded so naughty, Yuuri!”</p><p>“EH? NO! I didn’t mean it that way! <em>Viktor</em>!”</p><p>“What’s going on over there?” Mila laughed, fingers playing with Sara’s long black hair. </p><p>“I don’t think Yuuri was exactly honest this morning, there’s a lot more to his ‘secret’,” Sara said with a giggle.</p><p>“It looks a little… not so PG…” Guang-Hong whispered, face red. </p><p>“Oi, pervert! Get off Katsuki! He has dance in the morning!” Michele snarled, throwing pastry crumbs at them. “Get your gross Omega pheromones off him!”</p><p>“We’re Omegas, you asshat!” Sara snapped, Guang-Hong echoing all but the insult at the end.</p><p>“What’s naughty? Yuuri, are you being naughty?” Phichit asked, getting up to get better angles for his phone. </p><p>“I hate all of you.”</p><p>Viktor laughed and Yuuri gave up, wrapping arms around Viktor. After six month of a year long program, Yuuri had miraculously run into the one person in the whole world he wanted to meet more than anyone else. Viktor, who somehow took less than 24 hours to decide to claim Yuuri: as his dancer, his inspiration, and even his Alpha. </p><p><em>How did this happen?</em> He ducked his head against Viktor’s silver hair to hide his giddy smile. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Vaganova has a year long program for international students, but Sept to June. Yuuri was 19 when he joined and is 20 at this point in the story (around February)</p><p>Rimsky-Korsakov State Conservatory is also in St Petersburg, and Viktor is a Master's or Specialized degree student there (you can choose since I didn't specify😏)</p><p>This story isnt really A/B/O heavy, but. I like it. so. meh. Fite me?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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